Soft Shadows
by Please Tell Me
Summary: TsubakixBlackstar Tsubaki sees Blackstar and Maka kissing? That has to be a mistake, right? Partner story to Tally Marks.
1. Scraped Granite

**AN: Hey, this is my first attempt at fan fiction. Hope you like it! Please review!**

The image flashes through my mind again, pulsing through my eyelids. No matter how far I shoved it away, no matter how hard I worked to wring it out, it kept coming back. It wasn't like with cleaning, where I could just scrub away the black spots, the dirt, the blood. I couldn't scrub away the image of Blackstar kissing Maka. I couldn't destroy the picture of him brushing away a strand of her hair, looking at her like she was the sun. Like he didn't need to be the focus of attention as long as he had her.

I shove my back as hard as I can into the wall of the nearest building, granite digging into my leg. It didn't hurt enough. I slammed into it again and again, feeling the skin shred under the force with an almost malicious glee. It would hurt more later.

Maka and Blackstar kissing still hurt, but the betrayal was a different kind of wound. The blood was beginning to seep slowly from the cuts, and I slid down the wall, crouching in the dirt of the alley.

Blackstar didn't love me. I'd misread everything, even Maka, my best friend.

The sobs rippled through me silently as I crouched there, clutching the star on my chest. The star I had put there for him. I wanted to rip it off.

Somewhere I knew that the sun was setting and that Blackstar would be wondering where I was. Then I remembered he told me that he was going to hang out with Soul tonight, and not to wait up, because they were going to karaoke. Dimly, bitterly, I wonder what Maka told Soul.

I hear a rustling sound behind me, and the next thing I know is that someone has both of my arms. My eyes ache horribly and are so blurry with tears that I can't see who it is.

"Tsubaki?" I heard them say. I couldn't even hear who it was. "Tsubaki, it's Soul. What's wrong? Who did this?"

One thing I know, more than anything else, is that I can't do this to Soul. Maka and me... we'll work through this. But Soul could never forgive Blackstar. Not for this. Anything but this.

But how do I lie? What do I tell him to make him understand that no one hurt me? At least, not in the ways that matter.

"Um." I stall. My voice is raspy, unused. I cough several times, trying to clear it up. An idea hits me, but it hurts almost too badly to use. I don't want to dishonor him like this, but I don't have a choice. "It's nothing. Really. I saw a boy that reminded me of my brother and..." I gestured hopelessly around me, not wanting to continue. Leave, I beg him silently. Leave so I can cry.

Soul nodded, and agony shadowed his own eyes briefly. I frowned in concern, wiping my eyes. I had forgotten he had a brother, too. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, obviously just searching for something to do. "I'm sorry, Tsubaki. You're just so strong, we forget sometimes. Blackstar started a manhunt the second Liz couldn't find you."

I stumbled a little as he began to lead me out into the street and home. Strong? Me? I had no idea that my friends thought that about me. I always considered myself... inherited, I guess. Everything, all the strength I've been given, was given to me by my family. All my different weapon forms – nothing is really mine. It's all theirs.

We walked the rest of the way to my house in silence, and I focused on the feeling of my hair bouncing up and down soothingly to my gait. As unnapealing as it was, I made myself remember the kiss. As far as I could tell, both of them had seen me. At least I hadn't run away at first. I had tried to act normal. I had walked until I couldn't bear it and then ran.

For once, I called Balckstar an idiot over and over and over in my head, and a few other things too. Moron. Bastard. Liar.

What had he been thinking? That it would just be ok to lie to me about going out with my best friend? I shook my head violently at his stupidity, knocking Soul on his face with my hair.

"I'm so sorry!" I said, crouching down beside him.

" 'S ok, Tsubaki. I'm actually surprised it hasn't happened sooner." Soul sat up slowly, not even bothering to rub the back of his head. "Don't tell Maka this, but all of that regular Maka-chopping has not only dropped my IQ by about ten points, but it also gave me a thicker skull. I barely even feel them any more, except when she's really mad at me."

I shook my head in admiration. It took real skill to pull something that big over on Maka. It made me smile a little, and Soul cracked a grin on the way up. He held my hand on the way back to the apartment me and Blackstar shared, and it felt good to have someone else to hold _me_ to Earth for once, instead of the other way around.

Blackstar threw open the door as soon as we got there before we even knocked, and he took us all in immediately, instead of babbling about something. My red and cried out eyes, Soul's jacket on my shoulders, our hands twined together – Soul's loosely, mine a little tighter at the sight of Blackstar's face. I swallowed hard. His face was unreadable, blank.

"Soul?" I said quietly, slipping my hand out of his dry callused one. I took off his jacket and handed it to him. I knew my dress was dirty and rumpled, and that my one leg was a bloody mess.

"Yeah?" he answered. His hand took the jacket and he was talking to me but his eyes were on his friend, mouth shut tight. He knew.

"You're a good friend." I kissed his cheek and shut the door behind me on the way into the apartment.


	2. Bloody Bandages

**AN: Hey! I don't own anyone here… sad… no… waah! Please review, this is my first time!**

"Tsubaki, what happened to you?" Blackstar said, face intense as always.

"Nothing." I answered, putting on a bright face. I could act like everything was normal. I could do this. I loved him. I loved Maka. I could do this much for them.

"Tsubaki. I know it wasn't nothing." Blackstar looked ready to explode. I would have fed him the same line about my brother but he would never have bought it. He knew me too well.

"Blackstar. If I say it was nothing, it was nothing." I hesitated. I didn't want to do this. This seemed to just be one of those days, to have to play every card I didn't want to. "I don't ask for much. But this was nothing."

"Damn it, Tsubaki!" Blackstar yelled, punching the table. "Why are you doing this to me?"

I thought about Maka, about her slender legs and slim body. I thought about the way she held Soul after her hands burned, the way she chopped through her adversaries. I saw her dancing with her Papa and talking about her Mama and the way her eyes shone whenever she got a new book. I heard her voice when she killed the Keeshan. If that's the kind of girl that Blackstar wanted, what was I? I was tall and too big and shy. I always volunteered to do whatever they wanted, always compromised. If I had been more like Maka, if I had gotten better grades, studied harder... would it had made a difference? Would Blackstar love me?

I looked away from him, the anger and pain in his face suddenly unbearable. I was his sister. Or his mother. "Could you get the peroxide? I don't want this to get infected, and I'm going to have a hard time cleaning it out by myself."

Blackstar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he let it out he stomped into the bathroom and came out a minute later with the medical kit. I laid down on the couch, and the familiar rhythm of getting a wound treated relaxed me. "Thanks." I murmured when he was done.

He didn't look at me. His knuckles were white around the doorknob to the bathroom as he slammed the door. I sighed. This was going to be a long night.

I went into my room, changing into some shorts that wouldn't catch on the bandage that Blackstar had tied too tightly, angrily, over the scrape. I pulled on a t-shirt and then let my hair down. It was already past eight thirty and I hadn't made dinner. I wondered idly when the last time we'd ordered out had been. Probably when we'd first moved in together, I decided with a grin, smearing on some strawberry chapstick. And Blackstar decided that he should try cooking. Not only did he start a grease fire boiling water, but he later told me that he was trying to make salad.

I felt a little better as I knocked hesitantly on the side of his door frame, peeking my head into his room. "Blackstar? Did you eat out with Maka?"

Blackstar turned around hastily. "No. We were about to go for pizza when Liz called."

"Oh." I say softly. I still don't know exactly what happened, but he's angry with me and now's not a good time to go probing around in that business. "I'm sorry for worrying everyone. I didn't think..." I trail off, since I wasn't really thinking at the time. I was just desperate to get away from everything, no matter what.

"Anyway, I was thinking maybe we could order out, since we never do. Does that sound good to you?" I add a little more cheerfully.

Blackstar turns around, and his eyes look a little shiny. Is he getting sick? "Yeah. That sounds good."

I just stand there for a second, unsure of what to do. Should I go and order Chinese? Check his temperature? Apologize again for interrupting his date?

"She broke up with me." He blurts out. The room is dead silent, even quieter than it was before, and then I'm holding him and he's the one sobbing into my chest. It's broken, but basically she couldn't handle him. Blackstar would go all insane in public and it would embarrass her and no matter how many times he said he wouldn't he just couldn't stop.

"You understand, right, Tsubaki?" He says, staring up in my eyes. My heart stutters out something that can't be healthy and I gulp. We're sitting on his bed like we have been for the past half hour, food (chinese or otherwise) long forgotten while he poured out his heart to me. The tears stopped fourteen or so minutes in. "We'd be sitting in a movie theater eating popcorn and she'd whisper something to me and I'd go to whisper back and I'd be standing in front of the projector yelling something."

I never knew it was like that for him. I thought that Blackstar was just... well, Blackstar. But this Blackstar, the one that could focus on me right here and now – that was the one that I love.

I smile at him. "Of course I understand. I've been your partner since we were twelve."

Blackstar smiles back and I feel like I'm standing on the sun. Maka has her own sun waiting at home for her every day, she just doesn't know it yet. And when she does realize it, she's going to stop dropping its IQ.

I knock his shoulder gently with my own, like I used to with my brother. "Come on." I say. "You must be starving."

"Yeah." He says reluctantly. "I guess so."

I ordered the food, and he just pointed to what he wanted on the menu. I snuck worried glances at him. I didn't mind him being so quiet, but it wasn't normal for him. That was kind of my job. I wasn't used to making the conversation, but I did my best, asking him about how his day was. Normally just that would set him off for an hour, telling me all about everything he did the entire time he was away from me, even though that was often just a short period of time with Soul or a brief drama in the locker room.

Instead he just shrugged and glanced away. "Fine. Stein said that if I could have an extra week for that project because of Sikui."

I nodded, a bit deflated. He had already told us all at lunch, but it was still better than nothing. Sikui had been our seventeenth soul, but Blackstar got hurt badly in the fight and missed the next day's lessons, which explained how to do the project. It was another dissecting one, which I hated. Stein was supposed to be a genius, but I wished that he wasn't so obsessed with dissection. He was a good person, I knew, though the madness troubled him. I felt bad for Marie, who was always waiting for him to realize that she had feelings for him. I'm not even sure if sometimes that he could reciprocate.

I wince at how mean that sounded, even in my head. I worry about Marie, and Stein, more than I should. I always worry about other people more than I should. That reminds me – Blackstar's eyes were a little glazed earlier, but that was just because he was crying. I misread that too.

I think about the true or false problem on Stein's exam while I try and cheer Blackstar up, putting on his favorite movie and checking the fridge for ice cream. Girl or not, chocolate fudge ripple helps. Maybe it doesn't have any relation to real life, but it feels like it does. It's always like that for me. Blackstar is always going to be there for you: True or false. True, definitely true.

Then why was it false? Maka was so much better at these kind of problems, in real life, at school. All I could do was be nice to both of them and hope that Blackstar didn't realize that I loved him in a non-sister non-mother way before I became a death scythe.

The doorbell rings and I grin at Blackstar, telling him I'll be right back with enough chou mein to make his stomach explode. He smiles a little and I open the door, already pulling the money out of the heart lockbox we keep it in because it looks like a little girl's jewelry box. I'm apologizing for making him carry it up all the stairs but the elevator is out, and the hall manager is always drunk or high, so the tip will be twenty five percent, and it's Maka.

Her eyes are red and she keeps wiping them like she doesn't know what else to do. Her nose is running and one pig tail is slipping out of it's invisible rubberband. "I'm so sorry. For coming here." Her voice is still controlled, calm, through all of it. "But, Tsubaki, Soul and me had the mother of all fights and I can't go to Kid's because Liz and Patty're staying over at Kim's and..."

Maka trailed off, fidgeting. She pulled at the sleeve of her jacket nervously, not able to make eye contact with me. I couldn't make my mouth move. "I'm sorry." She whispered, and this time her voice did crack.

I hugged my best friend - the Chinese food guy chose then to show up. He was getting a thirty percent tip, wasn't he? I ushered them both into the apartment, got him to set the food on the table so that I could sign the receipt and set Maka up in my room while Blackstar was still glued obliviously to the tv.

It was better for him if he didn't know she was here, at least while he was finally cheering up a little. Maybe now I could – what? We had ordered way too much food, especially because Blackstar just picked at his.

Even though I felt like doing the same, I shove big chopstick-fulls of noodles into my mouth, making encouraging noises like he's a baby. This is the airplane and open the hanger... but he wasn't buying it.

"Tsubaki." He said, dropping the fork he was poking at his food with. I had tried to teach him to use the traditional way, but that had gone over about as well as cooking. "I... I think you should know why me and Maka started going out in the first place."

I can tell that this is his way of saying sorry, his face still soft and open from sitting on his bed and talking with me. I know Maka's in the other room and that she needs me too, but she doesn't seem quite as important right now. "You don't have to."

I brush my hair back, the unfamiliar looseness of having it down still throwing me off a little. It brushed my body in places I wasn't used to, and I gathered it up in my lap just to have it all in one place again for the control.

Blackstar shook his head, and his eyes narrowed. "No." He gestured to my leg sharply. "You'd tell me what happened if I hadn't lied."

And it's out there. The truth. I swallow, and we both hear it. He winces, and shakes his head. "Yeah, I thought so."

I don't like this side of Blackstar, but I know I deserve it. I sit up a little straighter, and wait to hear the rest of the story. No. His confession. I deserve this. I deserve this for not knowing. For not noticing the signs, for not keeping him from this pain. From this heartbreak. I should have been the only one to go through this kind of pain. There should not have been two of us.

"When she turned seventeen, two weeks ago, she got really drunk, remember? All of you weapons were out on that practical training exercise, and she flipped. I've never seen Maka so -" He faltered, and it was like words failed him. There was pain in his eyes. "She was hurting. Really bad. Now that I really think back on it, I don't know if she thought I was Soul, but she obviously thought she had an... obligation to stay with me for a little while after that." His face twisted. "She didn't want to tell anyone, and I didn't either, because I thought that it wouldn't last, honestly."

He gulped some water down, hard. I held his shoulder, but I knew that I wasn't the one he needed right now. My room mate. One of my best friends. I looked at him, trying to see if there was anything I could do, anything else I could give him to make him feel better. Ice cream and movies couldn't fix this.

But I had to tell him something. Something that he might not forgive me for. I bit down onto my tongue hard, focusing on the sensation spreading from my left molar. Cool fire. So much better than the nausea choking its way up through my stomach. Weaving up my throat.

"Tsubaki?" Blackstar said. He looked scared. My vision was going a little hazy. Breathe. Breathe? How do you breathe? "Are you ok?"

In. Out. Right. Ok. I could do this.

"Blackstar, I'm really sorry. But I did something." I blurt out. "Maka had a big fight with Soul when she got home, and she couldn't go to Kid's, and I thought she was the Chinese guy, she's in my bedroo -"

My hand. Why does my hand look like that? It's the wrong shape. It should be bent the other way. What happened? It was on Blackstar's shoulder, wasn't it? My brain is slow, pushing through the thick, black mud, trying to understand what happened. He pushed it off and it looked like this.

And then he left. I wish someone would make that noise stop. What is that noise? It's so high. Please. Someone make the noise stop.

**AN: Woah. That came out intense. I don't know what happened. Please tell me what you think!**


	3. Wallpaper

The walls change, and the noise doesn't stop. It gets louder and louder while I try to understand how the walls changed. They were the pale yellow of the bamboo, and now they're not. They're – blue? And tan? The noise starts to get quieter while I focus on the wall, the blue and tan, tantalizingly familiar.

Cold. That's what I am. Cold. The dead numbness is soothing and I want to give into it, sink into it and never have to come out. All I have to do is fall inside, close my eyes, pretend that this stupid piece of wall never caught my attention. I wrap myself in the ice, the spots of fire on my shoulders making me uncomfortable. So different. Too different. I should just go away in the snow, in the ice and the snow. Then Maka and Blackstar can never hurt me again and I won't have to pretend like I don't care.

"Blackstar?" I squeak out, and it hurts my throat. His face snaps into focus, green eyes so close and wide with panic that I can't see my reflection. My whole body feels numb, even my face. I can't feel anything. I bite my tongue until it bleeds but I can't taste the blood.

He's shaking. My brain is faster again, and I almost wish it wasn't. I see myself telling himself about Maka, and I just let the blood sit in my mouth, waiting to taste it. Don't hate me. Please. Don't hate me.

I pick up my arm, meaning to put my hand on his face like they do in novels, but its just hanging there, like a ragdoll.

And I can't comprehend the way the my finger bones are pressed together, mangled into pieces by a force I don't understand, because it can't have been Blackstar. He just pushed my hand off his shoulder. All that weight lifting... I didn't think – none of us had thought.

The sight of my hand makes him shake even harder and his mouth drops into a little o. I move my arm behind my back as quickly as I can without startling him, and a tear drips out of his short lashes. I wipe it off, fast, with my left hand.

"Shh. Shh." I say, kissing his forehead and then pulling back. It doesn't feel intimate anymore. It feels like a battle. Blood and comfort. Two things that me and Blackstar know.

He shakes his head, taking a step back and then another. I reach after him with my injured hand reflexively and he shudders, grasping the doorknob. "T-too far. I went too f-far this t-time." He tried to open the door but was shaking too hard. And suddenly Maka's there, drowning in a pair of my pajamas. He looks at her, anything to get away from the pain on my face as he leaves me.

"I called an ambulance already." She tells him quietly, and there's fire in her voice that I can hear even when she's not glancing in my direction, olive eyes still red from crying. I realize I still don't know what that noise was. She puts her hand on the doorknob, and she whispers something a little too loudly to him to be private. Maybe she thinks I'm still too out of it to notice. Maybe she wants me to know. "And, Blackstar, if you don't come back, I'll make Kid find you using the mirror. Against regulations or not."

My spine stiffens. Due to the sensitive nature of the mirror, using it without authorization from Lord Death was grounds for expulsion, for both meister and weapon. There were rumors that the mirror could even allow you to time travel.

Maka opens the door, and watching Blackstar leave me is like watching my soul be torn in two, and I know somewhere deep down that if I don't run after him now I might not get to later. I push myself off the high stool, pressing my left hand to the counter for leverage as I lurch forward as fast as I can. I fall on my face, and the world goes black.

**An: Ok, in case it wasn't clear, the noise was Tsubaki screaming. (Miki wasn't sure.) And sorry it's so short, but the next one will be waay long! I don't own anyone! Just the muffin!**


	4. Pizza Sounds Good

Beeping.

I shift uncomfortably. When did my bed get so hard? Blackstar must have forgotten to wash the sheets again, I decide, and that's what's making it so stiff and uncomfortable. I smile slightly, and wonder when he reset the alarm. It's so much less aggravating than his voice saying, "Tsubaki!" over and over again. I giggle at the 'aggravating' part, because it was mostly only aggravating when the real Blackstar woke me up from the dream I was perfectly content with(usually influenced by the alarm). A cool draft hits me and I shudder, reaching up to pull the sheet over me.

A sheet? And what's on my hand? I open my eyes, sitting up as quickly as I could manage with the heavy duty brace set up on my right hand. The events of last night rushed back and I touched my face gingerly, hoping I didn't get the blood I was still hoping I would taste onto the carpet. There was actually a scab on my tongue where I had bitten down, and I shuddered, wondering how much force I had used in my effort to feel something.

I look around the blank hospital room, searching for Blackstar, Maka, Soul, even Kid or Patty. But no one is here. The disappointment is a crushing wave. Not for Maka or Soul. I can understand why they couldn't skip a day of school for me, but Blackstar showed up late just to make a bigger impression on everyone. Teachers gave days off so you could be with your partners when they woke up, even and let you make up the work later. They understand the importance of keeping the bond strong.

I breathe in deeply through my nose and out again. I'm being selfish. He should be in school. That's where he belongs, not holding my hand in here. I can suddenly see the look on his face when I reached out to him with that hand again, and I know it's disgust. Disgust at me, at my hand, mangled and bloody. Even if when it's healed and whole again, there will always be that memory between us, tainting everything it touches. I'm dirty now to him.

I bury my head in my knees, pulling them up close to my face so that no can hear the muffled sobs. Blackstar thinks like that. When he first met me, he didn't see curves, he saw clapping, and so that's how he kept seeing me until last night. Then he saw my hand. My chest aches. I feel naked in this hospital gown, exposed. I still sob into my knees, but they're dry and heaving.

I wish I had something of him, anything of him. I know that Maka thinks he gives out those pictures to everyone, but we don't have that kind of money. He has a twenty cents spending allowance from the Academy, and whatever money he's earned from the random job he picked up before losing it. Most of the money goes into going out with Soul, or the cable bill, which we split. She doesn't know how lucky she is to have her father living right here in Death City.

I stuff the end of my hospital gown into my mouth, the taste of paper mixing with dried blood. There's a new bandage on my leg, and it makes me cry even harder, irrationally. What if that bandage had been the last thing that I ever got from Blackstar? I shake so hard that it hurts, my muscles aching. The shaking resonates from my lower spine and I try to relax it, my legs quivering. I tense up even more, and one leg shoots off the bed, long and pale as it vibrates back and forth.

Soul walks in, and I spit the hospital gown out of my mouth, still heaving dry sobs, body shaking. He's carrying a tray of hospital food, blueberry muffins and pomegranate juice. Thankfully his eyes are on the tray and not the room. There's way too much food for one person, and I wonder if he meant to eat too, especially since I think I'll be able to eat about as much as Blackstar did last night. But as soon as I think that, Blackstar walks through the door, shoving a stack of white papers into the pocket of his hoodie. His eyes are dark circles punched in the pale olive of his skin, and his lips are tight.

He's here. He's here. I breathe in, slowly. Softly. When I let it out, I'm not shaking anymore, and the crying's stopped too. He's here. The relief is like a rainstorm after a drought, and I get out of the bed, acting like that was what I had meant to do the entire time.

"I thought you would have been at school," I say, taking the tray from Soul, and guiding him to sit down gently. He doesn't look much better than Blackstar. I set the tray on the bed and face Blackstar, smiling at him hesitantly. Everything should be ok now. He didn't leave me.

But he doesn't look at me. He stares out the window, the sun just beginning to rise through the light drizzle. I fidget with the hospital gown, but I know that isn't why he won't look at me. My hand. I bite down on the scabbed area of my tongue, slicing through the layers of coagulated blood quickly. I was wrong. He wasn't leaving me. But this was much, much worse. How long until he could look at me? Until it was healed? How long until he could talk to me?

Soul laughed and the noise startled me into looking at him over my shoulder. Oh, no! I forgot these are open in the back. I go and stand in front of the wall by the window, glad that neither of the boys had noticed before me.

"No, Kid is getting our homework for us. Did you really think that we would leave you alone?" He shook his head. "Maka had a special lesson with Stein, so she had to go back early, but I skipped mine with Spirit. I only have first period off, so I have to be going pretty soon." He pulled a hair band out of his pocket, shoving his bangs back sloppily. "The doctors said that you broke your fingers had 'multiple cun-too-zi-uns' and they want to put on the cast later today."

I nod, a little sad. Soul had turned out to be a better friend than I had expected, though maybe that isn't the way to put it. He'd turned out to be a different kind of friend then I'd expected. I knew he would always be there for me, but we had a new tie now, more then just being weapons for two headstrong meisters. I didn't understand it anymore then Death the Kid's obsession with symmetry, or why I hadn't swallowed the blood again. I gulp and make myself stop biting, letting it just slowly leak into my mouth. "Ok."

Soul smiles at me. "I brought some muffins and drinks up for you and Blackstar. Blaire said that these are supposed to be really, um, 'nummy'. I also have the advance copy of the new training schedule at the weapon's gym because I'm just cool like that." He pulled a pink square of paper out of his pocket and walked up to me, slipping it into my good hand with a grin. He gave me a quick hug. "Take care of yourself." He whispered in my ear before releasing me, and I was too surprised to do anything. It wasn't like Soul to be this touchy-feely, this nice. The hug made me feel a little better, like when we had held hands, like being grounded again and the feeling stayed. I smiled a little at him, and he left, flashing me a goofy face, his shark teeth making me giggle, even if it's slightly off. At last, someone I was ok with being a little sister to.

Blackstar watched me as Soul left, but when he noticed me looking he glanced at the ceiling, the floor, the bed, and then the muffins. I shifted uncomfortably, hiding my bad hand behind my back. It was in a brace, but it might still set him off. Whatever seeing my hand did to him, it wasn't good. This was my fault. All my fault. For hiding Maka in my room, for putting my hand on his shoulder, for not telling him and then telling him...

Blackstar grabs a muffin and a bottle, the discreet black wrapper making him look even paler then he already did. I hated seeing him this way. He shoves the muffin in my hand, and I grasp it automatically, upside down. He steps back to his side of the room and opens the bottle, gulping down a third of it at least.

"Blackstar?" I say, turning the muffin rightside up.

No response. I don't even know if he can hear me.

"Blackstar? I – I know you really don't want to... to talk to me right now, but, I just needed to say something." I take a small bite of the muffin, even though it blends with the blood and tastes horrendous. I'm stalling. The last time I did this, it didn't work. "I just wanted to say that I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have let Maka in without telling you." A tear slides down my face, and I freeze. Maybe he didn't see it. I can't tell, I'm staring at the muffin, perfectly whole with only a small chunk missing. I want to turn around, but I can't. I'm wearing a hospital gown.

"Please." I say. "Just, please, talk to me." Another tear slides down, and I can't move my eyes to his face. The world has narrowed down to that muffin. Almost whole. Why did I have to break it? The pulsing sensation returns behind my eyelids. "I did it again, with my leg, that's what I didn't tell you." The tears won't stop now, and I can't tell if they're for me or Blackstar or the muffin, sitting there in my hand, broken. No one wants a broken muffin, even if it's broken just a little bit. Blackstar's face when he saw my hand follows the pulsing now. "Like after my brother died, remember? Just don't leave. I'll get better." I'm whispering, and the words are chopped up by sobs, barely recognizable. My nose is burning. "I'll get better, I promise."

"It's not – not anything you did Tsubaki." Blackstar is closer, much closer then I thought he was. He takes another step and I can see the tops of his shoes. "I'm not safe. What if I get mad again? What if I get mad at you? The Academy was right to kill us off. We really are monsters." His voice is sad, and I can't bear it. I can't bear what he's saying. It can't be his fault. It has to be my fault. If it's my fault then I can fix it, I can make it better, I can work harder. He's supposed to stay with me. When we were both twelve he said he would stay with me. He told me so. Even if everyone else left, even if I killed my own brother, I would have him. My sun. My shining star.

I hear the rumpling of paper and I drop the muffin, the stupid broken muffin. I need to face this. I can stop this. I wonder if this desperation was what Stein felt, this awful fear of being left alone in the dark.

"I got the forms to cut off a partnership from the DWMA last night. I just need you to sign, too." His voice cracks. He doesn't want this either, damn it.

"God damn it, Blackstar." I say, and my fist clenches. What does he think he's doing? What does he think he's deciding for us? For me?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry about your hand, and about lying to you about Maka." He says, voice earnest, saltwater landing on my hand, from both of us. "You've done everything for me these past five years. I can do this for you."

"What the hell do you think you're talking about?" I ask him, and I can finally move my head. I don't feel like me. I'm who I was so desperately wishing I was just last night, Maka. My eyes are hard, crystal hard even if they are dripping as much as the sky. The rain pours out in sheets behind me, and the old Tsubaki would have listened to it, tried to calm herself before heading forward. But this was too important. His face is determined, even if it is just as tired as it was before.

"You know me inside and out, Blackstar. Do you think I could live without you? Really? You saw what I did to my leg. I did that because you lied to me, for something I forgave you for. What would I do to myself for this?" I'm relentless, beating him with the truth and I can see it wearing him down. But it's not enough. It's never going to be enough. "You're part of me now. You're what I have when I come home, when I've had a bad day, when I killed my brother." My voice softens, and I put my hand on his wrist, gripping it tightly. It's tense, and I know he's still leaving. I need to tell him. "I can't lose you. I love you."

And I kiss him, closing my eyes so I don't have to see the rejection, the disgust, so I can live in denial and have these few precious seconds before he pushes me away. I feel like my entire body is lit on fire, and he puts his hand on my neck, tangling his finger in my hair, the way I had imagined so many times before. I can't think, I can't breathe, and then he pulls away, tracing a gentle line up my arm. I dimly realize he must have dropped the papers a while ago as he presses his lips to my forehead, and I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder, more grateful that he had a growth spurt at fifteen than any other thing in my entire life. My brace makes me clumsy but the moment no less perfect.

"Really?" He says, and I don't really care so much that the hospital gown is open backed anymore.

"Uh-huh." I mumble into his neck. I smile. He's not leaving.

"I -" He shakes his head, and I can feel his neck moving. I already know what he's going to say. "I'm not very good with words, or emotions, but... I think I do too."

I kiss the side of his neck, the smooth skin split by a small scar there. I can't remember what it's from anymore, and I doubt he can either. "You can always have the stage as long as I get to be in the front row."

He laughs, and it feels weird against my chest, a deep rumble. I could get used to it, and the warm, glowy feeling it spreads through me. "I'm thinking pizza, how about you?"

"Yeah." I say, tipping my head back to face his. I stand up a little straighter so I can whisper into his lips, "Pizza sounds good."

**An: Wooooow, it's really over! For those interested, I'll be getting a SoulxMaka story from Soul's point of view that's basically a continuation of this story. Till then!**


	5. How to Break a Moment

I don't want to break this moment.

My body is curled up next to Blackstar's, his arm wrapped around my shoulders with our backs pressed against the wall under the window. I can hear the rain pouring down, and I can't stop smiling even though I'm a little afraid that my breath stinks and I _might_ have dried blood all over my teeth. So I compensate by making my breath come out in short, almost silent puffs. Blackstar let his head slip into the space between my shoulder and my neck, and his breathing started to slow down. The sheets of rain lulled me into almost shutting my eyes before I opened them with a snap, inhaling deeply.

I _really _didn't want to break this moment.

"Uh, Blackstar?" I whisper, because the room's so quiet, so peaceful that I feel like an elephant trying to walk on a tightrope. He shifted, and his hair tickled the back of my ear uncomfortably. I have to grasp the sides of my ribs to keep from laughing hysterically. When the feeling finally subsides and I can breathe again, I know he's asleep. I sigh, even though he's really warm. I've gotten used to getting maybe six hours of sleep or sometimes less on the weekdays and then sleeping thirteen hour nights on the weekends. Blackstar would make fun of me if he wasn't so afraid of me when I was grumpy. I can't even remember what I do – it's a completely black spot on my memory.

He's been up almost, well, twenty four hours, I realize with a grimace. I shouldn't have let it come to this. I push the guilt aside the best I can as I try to figure out if I can move him onto the bed without waking him up.

Let me see... he's on my shoulder... and he's wrapped around my shoulders... and the bed's six feet or so away. I screw up my face, squinting my eyes closed as I try to come up with a suitable plan. Unsurprisingly, the almost painful expression doesn't help me think of anything, and I relax my face with a sigh, slumping against the wall. Blackstar nestles farther into my body, and I smile at the shudder it sends through me. Some things never change - the way I reacted to him, even though he was unconscious.

I wander through a daze of memories, a random collage of my life as I sit there listening to his breathing and the rain under the harsh light of the hospital. Free's face morphing into a werewolf while I stood helpless beside Blackstar, waiting for him to tell me what to do. Hearing the command finally, and knowing it was a bad idea, but doing it anyway. I rub my bare foot over the rough carpeting nervously, almost anxiously waiting for the guilt to plague me. And it does, but his breath on my neck, in and out, fast and slow and then faster again, reassured me. We'd come out ok. Better for it even, because he'd realized he needed to work more with the water before he tried the enchanted sword move on a real opponent.

I relax the tensed muscles of my shoulders into his arm, which is still wrapped securely around my shoulders. Is this… real? This sense of security? I want to poke at it almost, want to shove at it until I can make it break and feel the familiar pains again. It's strange, to be able to calm myself down so easily, so simply.

Blackstar mutters something, almost below my hearing, and I raise my eyebrows, surprised. Usually if he talked in his sleep it was practically yelling, loud enough to get neighbors to come down and ask what all the random noise was about. After wrestling with my conscious briefly, curiosity won out and I leaned my head closer to his mouth until I could hear the slightly slurred words.

"…not. Gam not gay for Soul, Kid!" He half yelled, shooting awake and knocking my head against the wall with a thump. I jerked back in surprise, putting my hand over my mouth in an attempt to keep from laughing. _That _was what he dreamed about?

His face turned bright red, and he shifted slightly away from me, arm still slung around my shoulder. "Blackstar?" I asked, poking the side of his face. "You want a muffin?"

"Um. Yes. A godly muffin would be appreciated." He said stiffly. I grin, and peck the side of his cheek boldly. His body tenses up even more, and a little bit of my smile starts to slip.

"Are you ok?" I ask softly, the stupid smile still plastered all over my face like it was painted there.

He sighs, and his back straightens so far up that I think for a second he's trying to jump before he slumps back down, taking me with him. I guess he didn't care about that muffin too much, because he seems to be thinking really hard.

"Tsubaki." he requested softly. I look at him, prepared for anything. "What would you do if you hurt someone? If you really… if you think you really screwed it up this time?"

I lean back into his arm, thinking the question over seriously. What I would do isn't the question here, because what I would do doesn't matter. What matters is what Blackstar should do. The only people he could have seriously messed up with recently are… my eyes go wide with recognition, the breath leaving my lungs in a rush. "Soul." I whisper, barely breathe it.

Blackstar jerks away from me slightly before settling back. "Yeah. Soul. He knows. Somehow, I don't know how, he knows everything. But I've never seen him so angry." Blackstar shook his head, glaring ahead, lost in a memory. "I thought at the time it was about you… but-"

"Wait, Blackstar, please." I beg, voice still a little breathless, holding up a hand. I can't deal with this, any of this. It's too much to process. I have only one absolute truth. Soul and Blackstar will fight if they come near each other. And Soul will try and kill Blackstar. "What happened."

"On the elevator here, he saw the forms to break the partnership with you." The guilt lays over his eyes like a glossy film, and it makes me feel sick for too many reasons to count. "He almost ripped my head off, I think he would have if he wasn't carrying your food. He really stuck up for you. Then he asked me how Maka would react if he pulled that. I think the last thing he said was, 'You've gotten the chance to know her so well these past few weeks and all.'" Blackstar's head had dropped somewhere halfway through Soul's parting line. I rubbed his shoulder soothingly, then winced. That gesture didn't seem to hold the best luck for us.

"I'm…" I didn't have the words. There was nothing I could say. Soul was his best friend. And he hated him. All I could do was tell Blackstar the truth, and that would hurt him. We'd both had a lot of truth today as it was. "Do you want the truth? What I think is going to happen?"

Blackstar shrugged. Not good enough. I couldn't hurt him like this for that half hearted shrug, but I couldn't just send him in blind either.

"Please, Blackstar. I _need_ an answer." I shift closer, and my foot hits something, distracting me for a moment. It's the pink piece of paper, the gym schedule. I frown. It doesn't look like a schedule. I lean over, picking it up.

**Shay Trikki (**_**Lol**_**) 7582 Rose Avenue 350-9551**

"Blackstar…" I mutter. "This is the paper Soul gave me. You don't think it's?"

Blackstar looked at it, eyes dead until they read the girl's name again. "No fucking way." he said loudly. "No _fucking way!_" He pumped a fist in the air, eyes gleaming with sudden life. I ignored the sick, jealous twist in my stomach and laughed at his antics instead, faking it easily.

"What?"

"That's Shay. Soul's best friend, before the me, of course." Blackstar said, obviously proud. "If anyone can tell me how to say sorry right, it's her."

I shake my head. "Maybe, but Blackstar-"

"This is it, it really is Tsubaki!' he said, the sick feeling in my stomach growing worse every second. This will not end well.

It won't.

It just… It just can't.

_**AN**__: Oh, God, that took forever. Literally. Let the record show I finished it at 3:42 am in the morning on a Saturday? Sunday? How does that work? After posting the 9th__ part of the SoMa that I SWEAR was supposed to just be an offshoot. :_) Anyway I have Spring Break so here we go! Please review and tell me what you liked, what you disliked, and, especially if you're anonymous, how it can be improved._


	6. Shattered Soul

"No, Blackstar, you don't understand," I explain shakily as he stands up, heading for the door. His green blue eyes are big, huge, like he just got a puppy, and it's Christmas, and Easter, and the Fourth of July and his birthday. I plant a hand on the wall, trying to grab the windowsill with my other hand to drag myself up but my brace knocks off awkwardly, echoing through the room. I shake it off, but it makes him pause, glancing backward, his expression wincing back like he was scared of what he'd find. I use the pause to grab the sill, trembling a little as I stand, the gap between us miles wide. I don't know how to say this. "You can't. You can't say sorry to him. He'll try and… _kill_ you." I finish, voice barely a whisper.

Blackstar shakes his head, obviously not believing me. Can he not see it? Can he not understand how… how destroyed Soul must feel? How betrayed? "He will." I repeat, voice stronger. I can see Soul, like an afterimage burned into my eyes by an intense light, blocking out Blackstar, laughing as he half transforms. "Please believe me!" I say desperately, my voice rising.

"Tsubaki," I hear Blackstar say, and the picture of Soul moves closer, fragmenting and blurring as it twists, grinning manically. I can't let them do this, I can't let them fight. "Tsubaki, calm down, it's okay, everything is going to be okay." I can hear Blackstar's voice, so soothing, so distant as Soul's face stops right in front of mine, his demon pointed teeth dripping in saliva that he slurps back with a silent hiss. I whimper quietly as he puts his transformed arm on my hip, the vision of the sharp red and black metal broken by the quietly humming static that surrounded him, deep crimson eyes glaring into mine, trapping me.

"No, don't… touch me, Soul." I whisper, cringing back from the weapon. Blackstar's voice is far away now, so far away I can't hear him at all. "Go away!" I scream as he slashes through the gown, revealing the scars that traveled over my stomach and lower back. "Get away from me! He's not supposed to see those!" I yell, uselessly, but he's too strong, gripping my hips and arms and legs, overpowering me, pinning me to the bed and holding me down as I continue to thrash, the entire time just grinning at me. Because he knows it too, he's just like Blackstar, he _wants _it to happen. They're going to fight, and it's my fault, and I can't do anything.

There was a sharp pain in my arm that I barely registered, and then I was gone, wrapped in the silky night, nothing but Soul's eyes for company.

"Tsubaki?" Blackstar's voice. Scared.

"I'm going to kick you out if you don't shut up." An older lady. Grumpy. I try to shift a little, and realize I can't. Something's holding my arm's and legs to whatever I'm lying on, the hospital bed, I think, as I come more awake, and it's done exceedingly well, excessively in fact. Mid thigh, knees, ankles. Elbows, shoulders, wrists. Stomach. I groan, a little confused. What's going on? Did they think I was going to try and transform or something? "Or I could just kick you." she grumbles, lower, but still loud enough that I can hear it and I assume Blackstar can too.

I open my eyes, finding Blackstar's face much closer then I'd expected, but much farther away than I'd like. He looks terrified. I remember Soul with sudden clarity, the way he'd appeared with no warning, the way he'd been covered with some kind of static, and realize with another groan I'd hallucinated. Blackstar leans forward anxiously, peering over my body with total concentration, making me blush. "Where does it hurt?"

"Nowhere, I'm fine." I assure him quickly. "Really. What… what happened?"

"Well, we were hoping you could tell us that." A rather disgruntled voice informed me, walking around the edge of the bed so that I could see her without straining my neck. "What do you remember?"

She wasn't as old as I thought she would be, her reddish blond hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, strands falling in her face. Her green eyes glared at me, softly I realized when she turned her gaze to Blackstar and I gulped at the force of it. He stood, still looking me over intently, not impressed with my brief reassurances. "I was talking to Blackstar and then I think…" I stared up at the ceiling, eating away at the inside of my cheek. This was a weakness. Pathetic. "I saw Soul, and he attacked me."

The nurse raised her eyebrows, blowing out her breath. "I suppose that explains some of it." She said, taking a seat beside my bed. "I'm Ophelia. Have you ever had hallucinations before?" Ophelia asked, eyeing the scars on my torso thoughtfully, some old, the raised lines some newer.

"No!" I said, quickly. "I mean, maybe. I don't know." I finally admit, wishing I could look somewhere, anywhere, else, but Blackstar is on one side and Ophelia is on the other and nowhere is safe.

Ophelia took a deep breath. Then she took another one. "Look, sweetheart. I work the night shift, and this is, right now," she checked her watch, "officially overtime. In my professional opinion, you should see a doctor about this. Not about the hallucinations. About these." She said, tapping my stomach, making me jump. "I had a sister who cut too deep one day, and let's just say I don't have a sister anymore. Her daughter got sent off to a really nice family." Ophelia paused, then leaned forward. "Then the family died. So not all happy endings are happy forever. Don't take bad choices that help you, like the cutting, for granted, ok? There isn't a big enough pay off, not for anyone."

I swallowed, humiliated. He knew. Blackstar knew everything. "Okay." I mumbled.

Ophelia leaned forward farther to whisper in my ear, brushing the hair away from my face with a gentle hand. "I'm sorry to do that in front of him, but someone needed to know."

She pulled away, and I could only watch in shock as she walked out, handing Blackstar the scissors as she went. She had done it on purpose.

"Tsubaki?" I faced Blackstar. I didn't want to do this. "Did you really… do that? To yourself?"

I want to shake my head, deny it, anything to get that look of disgust and fear and horror off his face. But what's the point when he already knows?

I don't answer, can't decide how to answer, and he talks for me. "Why? Why? We're here for you. _I'm _here for you."

I shake my head. How do I explain it, how do tell him that they aren't enough to keep it away, might never be enough? "When you're really angry at someone, arguing, what do you do? If you can't hit them?"

Blackstar frowns, putting his hand up, trusting me to make sense eventually. "I make a fist."

"Make it as tight as you can, until it hurts. Why does it feel good when you're angry?" I ask him, prodding him along. This much, this part of the explaining was easy. I'd thought it through so many times when it first began, trying to understand what was happening to me.

He made it tighter and tighter until I could see the white of his bone through his skin. "I don't… know." He admitted finally, relaxing it with a grimace.

"It's an outlet. A pain for you to focus on, other than the one inside." I said, almost eagerly. It was so much easier to explain it now. Blackstar picked up the scissors and began cutting through the duck tape, still listening to me intently. I could tell by the way he cocked his head, the way he moved.

"Yeah. I guess." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"So whenever I got really upset, it would be like drowning." I talk quietly while he cuts quickly, while he finishes up on my left arm and goes around to the right side of the bed. "I couldn't breathe, the only way I could get through was knowing that I could do that when I was alone, and suddenly I could be normal again." I stop for a second, breathing in and out quietly through my mouth as he slices through the tape efficiently and starts on my stomach. "I have a list, at home, on my wall behind the dresser of what each one is for." I tell him earnestly, abruptly. I almost wish I could take it back, but I see no reason to. I can tell him everything. He knows. He doesn't hate me yet.

"Doesn't it hurt?" he asks, voice shallow, strung out somehow.

"No. Yes." I laugh a little, enjoying the silence of my room as I can sit up, watching as he works on my ankles. "I don't feel much of anything until later. During it's like freedom."

No, that wasn't right. I want to shake my head and take it back. It sounds like I'm romanticizing it. But my brain is slowly coming back to me, and I realize that Blackstar might not be able to handle full disclosure, might not be able to handle it. I grimace quietly to myself for a moment, imagining my voice dopily illustrating a cutting session, something I might have done a minute or two ago. It felt so good to tell someone. Even just a little bit. Even if it wasn't the hard stuff, the things in the back of my mind that pushed me aside and took over during that time, let me go away and die as many times as I wanted to, however I wanted to, even if it was just in my head.

Blackstar cut through the tape on my knees, his head down, completely focused on his work, and all I could see was his hair, as it had been the entire time. As my… 'sharing high' faded, I became more and more apprehensive about his silence, just leaning over me, just _working_. "Your leg. What happened with your leg."

I go still, my body tensing. That's different. That was far different. No matter what I told him, no matter what he knew. "No."

"Your. Leg." He said, voice rising as he chopped through another strip, practically ripping it off.

"_No._"

"Why the hell not?" Blackstar asked, voice frustrated, rising from somewhere deep in his chest as his hand slammed on the bed in between my legs, making me flinch back.

"It's private." I whisper, wrapping my arms around my chest protectively. I had ripped the hospital gown open, not Soul, but the tears where still there, and I had just started to feel them. The cold air conditioning of the hospital ghosted through it easily, and I shuddered. He was so angry.

"Fine." he replied, giving me the scissors to do the last strip. "I'm going to Shay's house."

"Wait!" I called as he walked toward the door, his broad back hunched forward, hands swinging like pendulums by his sides. I reached a hand after him unconsciously. "Be careful." I finished, lamely. _I love you. _I thought.

His face softened a little, teal hair drooping down as if it had just given up. "Love you." Blackstar said, violently, almost like he was wishing he could say he hated me instead. "But God, Tsubaki."

He shook his head, and pushed the door opened, then turned back just as quickly, his face suddenly hard. "Tell me one thing. Are you going to stop?"

I clutched the tattered hospital gown to me, my mouth open, short, stuttering gasps coming out. I stared into his face, his eyes. I loved him. I would die for him in a second if I had to, if I needed to.

"I don't think I can."

Blackstar slammed the door behind him, and I could hear his footsteps slam heavily outside for a few moments like a child's before the noise disappeared altogether. I crumpled against the headstand of the bed, wishing I could cry, but I couldn't seem to find the tears. He didn't hate me. I didn't know what that was. But he was so angry. He had to hate me.

The door opened again, creaking open softly, and I didn't bother to glance up, expecting it to be a nurse checking on me. I didn't care, for once I absolutely did not care. Soft footsteps approached me from across the room and then Blackstar kneeled beside the bed on the hard carpeting, his head hung low, even his hoodie starting to slip forward. He gripped my hand tightly, intertwining our fingers, his thick callused hands engulfing mine, which seemed so thin, so pale in comparison. "Blackstar?" I asked, blundering forward like an idiot, still unable to see his face where he hid it, bowed above the bed.

Blackstar pressed his lips to one of my scars, and I had to force myself not to jerk away, slightly unnerved. Why was he doing this? Something hot and wet hit my stomach, again and again, and then Blackstar let out a long shuddering breath that caught on the inside of his throat, his breath hitching awkwardly as he cried. I sat up slowly, carefully, curving my body so he could cry into my lap instead. I shushed him gently, running my hand through his hair as the tears turned to sobs.

Maybe one day I'll understand what just happened. Why one of the strongest people I know could cry like this, could break so much in one night.

Right now, I just want to hold him.

**_An: Phew. That took a lot longer than I thought it would. I didn't like writing Soul as a bad guy! And writing Blackstar upset just sucked on all levels. :-( Please review!_**


	7. Mural

Things never last as long as you want them to. And Blackstar will never listen to me as much as I want him to.

He left as soon as he managed to calm down, and then a doctor came in and wanted me to get a cast on when they saw I was up, and I didn't have anytime to think about everything that had happened.

It was like being stuck in a dryer on the spin cycle for hours. The cast didn't go on right the first time for some technical reason, I'm still not sure why, and after what seemed like forever it was finally on and they told me that I could check out when I could call for some clothes. I wanted to ask what happened to my old ones, but the second I tried to I saw a girl walk by outside the door in an outfit that was shockingly similar to what I had been wearing, her face blank as she accompanied the sheet covered gurney. I decided to leave it alone.

The nurse who was leading me back to the room through the straight hallways was practically bouncing as she finally stopped at my door. "And… here we go! Now, your friend should be inside."

Friend? What friend? No one had told me anything about a friend coming here. I thought that I was going to have to beg some change for the use of a pay phone, or just ask if I could use the hospital phone.

"What -" I started hesitantly, but the chipper nurse was already bounding on her way, waving at me with her clipboard.

"Now, that cast is going to itch! Make sure not to scratch the walls!" She told me with a wink, pale brown hair flying around her head as she turned a sharp corner, leaving me stranded and bewildered. Did she really think it would itch so much that I would rub on the walls like a deer on a tree?

I stared down the door. It was just a door, really. It wasn't like I had anything to be afraid of. And there was supposed to be a friend behind there. But how did they know who was my friend and who wasn't? I mean, they were just the hospital, they didn't actually _know_ me. I shook it off, deciding I was being paranoid, but the bad feeling in my stomach stayed.

I took a deep breath and grabbed the handle, twisting it even as I turned the rest of my body back from the room automatically.

What greeted me was not something that I ever could have expected. "…giraffes?" I whispered, poking my head in cautiously, taking a step in.

"BOO!" screamed Patty, jumping in front of me with a wild expression, and I jerked back.

"Hi, Patty," I said faintly, inspecting the mess that had been my hospital room. My nice, calming, _normal_, beige hospital room. It now had a very beautiful and detailed mural of what looked like a family portrait of three giraffes, still wet - if I could guess anything, I would say Patty, Liz, and Kid. The three distinct rows of spots on the head of the shortest giraffe proved that theory.

"I painted!" Patty exclaimed proudly, humming to herself as she pointed to a few cans of wall paint sitting on the bed with hands covered in dried the dried and cracking liquid. "Do you think Kid will like it?" She asked nervously, leaning forward with the eagerness of a preschooler.

I smiled, a little at first, then broader as I couldn't help it. Patty was too cute. "Is Kid here?"

She nodded, her shaggy hair flying like the ears on a puppy. "Uh-huh. He went to get us sandwiches a while ago."

With Kid, that could take - well, long enough for her to paint the room. Patty's blue eyes stared trustingly into mine as I scanned the room for clothing, but came up blank. "Do you know where my clothes are?"

"Oh, yeah. Kid said to give you these. They were the only symmetrical things we had in your size." Patty pulled out a long, grayish beige cloak that was hidden behind the door, and some old tennis shoes. I guess it was better then the hospital slippers, at least. I sighed, wishing futilely that I wore a size six or below, like everyone else I knew. Liz said she would kill to be Asian and have my curves, but I think she was just trying to make me feel better. When she wanted to, she could make guys - especially Kid - practically fall all over themselves trying to get her stuff. Come to think of it, I think I was one of them. I brushed the thought of with a shake of my head. It wasn't like I wouldn't get her stuff even when she didn't turn on the charm.

"Thanks." I said, shutting the door behind me and slipping out of the hospital robe and into the cloak, wishing I could fasten it somehow, since it was much too short for me and baggy too. I didn't feel like going around the whole day holding it closed, so finally just decided to take the tie off of the hospital robe and use it with a twinge of guilt, remembering Ophelia's tired, determined eyes. I didn't think that they would mind _too _much. I decided that having to choose between robes that opened in the front or the back, I had to say that the back was at least easier to hide.

Patty watched me with the nonchalant air of a dog or a three-year old as I fussed with the outfit, cocking her head with a blank expression. It would have been uncomfortable if I wasn't used to it. I'd helped her in the locker room almost every day for what must be over a year now, since Liz got assigned to some other girl as a partner at the volunteer center. At first she was in outrage about it, but Liz calmed down a little when she found out I would be taking care of Patty. Liz had explained a few things about her sister to me, then.

Like how she wasn't stupid, exactly. She wasn't retarded - in fact, she was really smart, smarter than me or Liz both. When she put her mind to it, she could do almost anything. Math, especially. She was practically a genius. She just didn't put her mind to things often. The doctors that Liz had gone to called it post traumatic stress. Liz and Kid both were worried that when she finally came out of the dream world that she'd been living in, that when the things her and Liz had had to do on the streets and everything she'd done since came crashing down on her all at once, she wouldn't be the same. That she might snap in some indefinable, irreversible way.

Liz didn't tell me all of that, of course. She didn't have to. I could hear the fear in her voice, in the little glances she stole at Patty, especially when she thinks no one is looking. She's scared of Patty, not that she'll admit it to anyone, even me. We're not really that close, I decided, leading Patty to the bed by the hand gently with a smile, we're just hanging-out-friends.

"So, Patty, did Kid leave you anything to do?" I prodded gently. There had to be a reason for the paint.

Patty scrunched up her face briefly, as if the sentence didn't make any sense before she answered. "Yuh-huh! He said that I could paint."

I looked at the cans of wall paint again. There had to be a reason. Kid wasn't that stupid. He wasn't. Was he? "Where are the brushes?"

Patty laughed. "I don't like brushes. I made them fly, see?" She pointed eagerly to the window, which was cracked open slightly, the blue sky pushing in, deceptively pure. The air the came through the window wasn't as nice as advertised. I missed Japan so much it hurt sometimes.

"Did he leave you paper? Something to paint on?" I asked, shoving down the homesickness.

Patty stared blankly over my shoulder for a moment. "Yeah." she finally answered, a bit dully. "It's, um, it's under the bed. I wanted to feed it to the monsters, but they weren't there, so I left it until they came back."

I smiled wider. "I don't think monsters eat paper. Why don't we get it out and draw something?"

Patty blinked slowly, and pushed her attention to me. "Yay! That's a great idea, Tsubaki. What do you want to draw? I want to draw a giraffe. No, I want to draw giraffe house. No, it'll be a SURPRISE! Do you want it to be a surprise?" Patty looked up anxiously from where she had abandoned her post next to me on the bed to recover the papers, her blue eyes wide.

I patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I'd _love_ a surprise, Patty. Can I draw too?"

Patty looked at the paper doubtfully for a moment. "Well, ok, but you can't draw anything with giraffes, ok? It's not because _I'm_ doing anything with giraffes for my picture, it's just 'cause I don't want you to do them."

I nodded understandingly and carefully took the cans of paint off the bed and introduced them to their new home, the floor. Taking a sheet of paper from Patty with a murmur of gratitude, I sat down on the floor beside her before she turned away, glaring at me over her shoulder, and I remembered her picture was a surprise. With a sigh that was more content than frustrated I relocated to the spot under the window where Blackstar and I had been what felt like forever ago but was really less than a few hours. I shook my head. Life was always crazy, but this was a new depth of insanity that I wasn't quite prepared for.

I collected the paint lids, most of which had damp areas, some bigger than others. It was a pretty limited selection of colors. Yellow, brown, black, green, blue, red. I thought about it for a moment in giraffe terms. Coat, spots, hoofs and nose, grass, sky…. Tongue? I shrugged and dipped my finger into the black, surprised at how cool the paint was. It had been so long since I'd done finger painting.

I frowned, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before it struck me and I bent over my paper with a madwoman's determination, filling the canvas with black. I waited impatiently for it to dry, blowing on it, holding it in front of the window, flapping it back and forth and spattering tiny droplets of black everywhere. When it was finally dry enough I suppressed the urge to do a victory dance to Patty's high pitched singing on the other side of the room. I sat back down and reached for the red, making sure not to touch it with the fingers I'd used for the black. I etched the symbol I'd been picturing so clearly into the black, thankful I hadn't forgotten a single line. Reading had always been a challenge for me, all the characters, all so similar and crowded at the same time.

"Whatcha doing Nee-san?" Patty's shrill voice asked me. I jumped, my hand pulling straight into the air, thank God.

"Where did you learn Japanese?" I asked, ignoring her question shakily as I went back to my painting. I should have noticed that she wasn't singing anymore, I was just stupid.

"Sissy - no, wait, Nee-san - likes to watch lots of anime." Patty said matter of factly. I shook my head. Who knew?

"I'm making a picture for Soul, for his birthday. It's tomorrow, remember?"

Patty backed away from me, shaking her head with her mouth open in a perfect o. She clutched her picture to her chest protectively as if I might taint it with my very presence. "Soul-chibi doesn't like his birthday. I don't like it either, anymore."

I started to correct her then gave up. It would be more fun to watch Soul's face when he tried to figure out what a chibi was. "I know, but he was extra nice to me this year, so I want to do something nice for him too."

Patty raised an eyebrow speculatively and opened her mouth to comment when the door opened with a cool, calm voice that I instantly recognized. "Patty, Tsubaki, I have food."

Kid's eyes were closed when he opened the door. Considering all the years I've known him, I can safely say that this was the reason he finished his sentence.

"Kid-chibi!" Patti grinned, and I swear I saw a sparkle in her eyes, but it was gone too fast for me to catch it. An intelligent, sadistic sparkle. "Look what I made!" She said, debuting her picture.

It was, unfortunately, an extremely accurate rendition of Kid-kun's head.

**_Author's Note: You don't have to review. I don't deserve it. Honestly. I've left this story for so long, and there's not even Blackstar in this chapter. But I will thank you with exuberance and cookies if you do. :-) Geez, another one done at four o'clock in the morning what is with this story?_**


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